Else under trampling hoofs thy gold shall lieThe holy gold of thy interior self, Crushed the rare pearls by every passer-by, Or given from hand to hand as vulgar pelf. It is the lesson taught each separate heart Revealed alone on coronation days. GIVE FREELY TO THE WORLD ITS JUST DEMAND The pearls too pure to be trod down in dust. All lives may know thy gentleness and grace; All hearts thy loving power may evidence; But on few hands-oft one alone-dare place THE COSTLY RING OF PRICELESS CONFIDENCE. GUIDANCE. BY H. BATEMAN. It is but little that I know, I cannot tell which way to go But this I know, that God is wise, His loving hand my want supplies- And well I know-Oh happiness- That He, through Christ the Lord, will bless Why, then, should doubt, or why a fear Disturb or trouble me? I know that God is always near, And loves unchangeably. THE RAISING OF JAIRUS'S DAUGHTER. [Earnestly, with care.] The boat that bore the Master had crossed the silver sea, Were sounds of voices eager-pitched, was throng of hurrying feet, For then, as now, were weary hearts, and Jesus' words were sweet. With passion-freighted earnestness, intense and clear as flame, Through tumult cleaving swift its way, one prayer of pleading came: 66 My little daughter lieth sick; she lieth near to death; Oh! on her lay Thy gentle hands-restore her fainting breath!" The stately ruler bowed his head before the Nazarene, And meekly led the way for Him the surging ranks between. But ere they reached the stricken house, was message brought of woe: 66 Thy daughter even now is dead; vex not the Master so!" Dark grew the father's face with grief, with tears his eyes were dim; Who did not know this darling child was all the world to him? How could they call her dead?—the dear, the beautiful, the bright; For him the summer lost its bloom, the noonday lost its light. Then tenderly until his thought, as if to soothe its ache, "BE NOT AFRAID: STILL KEEP THY FAITH," with power the Master spake, Though long and keen the mourners' wail was borne upon the air— The Master hushed the clamour by the peace upon his face, FOR SOME THERE BE When to their hour of gloom the Lord has crossed the silver sea! And though to us He give not back our dead, yet, better far, We know that where He dwells to-day in life our dear ones are. 81 GOD. ON THE BEING OF A GOD. BY YOUNG. [Earnestly and boldly.] Retire;-The world shut out ;-Thy thoughts call home➡ Lock up thy senses;-Let no passion stir ;- WHAT AM I? AND FROM WHENCE?-I nothing know, But that I AM ; and, since I AM, conclude SOMETHING ETERNAL: had there e'er been nought, Whence earth, and these bright orbs ?-ETERNAL TOO ?— Is seen in all their motions, all their makes; DESIGN implies INTELLIGENCE and ART: That can't be from themselves-or man that art To dance, would form an universe of dust. In MATHEMATICS? Has it fram'd such laws Which, but to guess, a NEWTON made immortal? If art to form, and counsel to conduct, And that with greater far than human skill, Resides not in each block,- -a GODHEAD reigns; And if a GOD THERE IS, that GOD HOW GREAT! ATHEISM. BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY. [With energy and boldness.] "The fool hath said in his heart there is no God." "No GOD! NO GOD!" the simple flower And trembles at the sound; The solemn forest lift its head, And red Vesuvius opes its mouth, To hurl the falsehood back. The palm-tree, with its princely crest, The bread-fruit bending with its load, The winged seeds, borne by the winds, The melon of the desert sands, Confute the scorner's creed. "No GOD!" WITH INDIGNATION HIGH, The fervent sun is stirred, And the pale moon turns paler still At such an impious word; And from their burning thrones, the stars, Look down with angry eye, That thus a worm of dust should mock GOD IS EVERYWHERE. BY NICHOL. [Earnest and serious.] A trodden daisy from the sward With moving heart did look ; I stood upon the sea-beat shore- I saw a home, a HAPPY HOME, And youthful hearts were blithesome there, I stood beside an infant's couch, I saw her kiss its fair, pale face, And smooth its yellow hair, And oh! I loved the mourner's home, I sought a cheerless wilderness, Where verdure grew not by the stream, |